Three stages of a man's life
by 5UP3RN47UR4L
Summary: Dwight McSmith has said there are three stages in a man's life when it comes to the father-son relationship: "My Daddy can whip your Daddy", "Aw, Dad, you don't know anything" and "My father used to say . . ." This series is dedicated to John Winchester – he did the best he could.
1. My Daddy can whip your Daddy

**Dwight McSmith has said there are three stages in a man's life when it comes to the father-son relationship. This is the first one: "My Daddy can whip your Daddy". This series is dedicated to John Winchester – he did the best he could. **

**Enjoy!**

**-Teija**

***SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN***

"Dad?"

I looked up from the lore books in front of me as I heard a raspy whisper from the kitchen door. Sam was standing in the door way in his pajamas. His body was still half asleep judging by his droopy eyes and a big yawn he let out. And no wonder, it was past two a.m.

"Hey kiddo, what are ya doing up this late?" I rubbed my eyes tiredly and tried to straighten my sore back. How long have I been reading?

Sam looked up at me and squinted his eyes in the bright kitchen light a little.

"I can't sleep. I'm cold and my head hurts", he said slowly and tiredly.

I folded my books away. This would have to wait till next morning, I was too tired to continue anymore anyways. I clapped my other knee to sign Sam to come closer and he tapped over to me. He did look a little pale now when the light hit his face more properly. He also had darkish areas under his eyes which told me he hadn't been sleeping all night. I put the back of my hand against his forehead which felt a little too warm for my liking. The boy had wrapped his arms around him and his body was shivering slightly as the fever run down in his system.

"Yep, seems like you're running a cold. Bummer."

Sam coughed few times and looked at me with his big brown puppy dog eyes. God knew who he had gotten those eyes from. Dean looked so much like Mary with his blondish hair and pale skin but Sam was a whole different story. One day, those eyes would be a death of some poor girl. Now, they were glued to me as if he was expecting me to work on some kind of miracle on him and make the bad feeling go away.

I sighed. How I wish I could do just that.

"You want some Tylenol? It would help with the fever." I ruffled his hair.

Sam frowned. I knew he didn't like medicine and especially hated swallowing pills. Dean had once pulled a trick on him by telling him that the white thing in his hand was a new kind of candy. Sam had taken a bite on it and tasted the bitter medicine. It had been just some harmless painkiller but the incident had caused some surprisingly resentful tears, Sam not talking to Dean for days (which was shocking since he adored Dean so much) and that he would take no pills anymore.

Well, that taught Sam a valuable lesson which he will be thankful for some day. That or the silent treatment had been for nothing.

Sam took a huge sigh as in he had just made a life and death decision and said bravely: "I can take it." Then continued a little unsure: "But could you halve them?"

I got up with a smile on my face. "Of course, kiddo. Let's get you some of those big boys' pills now."

After Sam had taken his medicine and finished his juice I grabbed him in my arms and carried back to their shared bedroom. Dean was fast asleep in his own bed, sprawled like an X over the mattress, his bare feet peeking out under the blanket. How the kid could sleep with his face buried in the pillow and his other arm twisted uncomfortably-looking next to his head was beyond me. But he was clearly out to this world nevertheless.

Sam's eyes wandered longingly to Dean's form as I tried to lay him down on his own bed. I frowned at the kid's resistant. After Mary died few years ago I had let Dean bunk with Sam. They were very close and I thought they would comfort each other at nights. Dean hadn't been talking much right after the fire and I had been so wrapped up in my own sorrow ( - _you still are_ - ) that letting them keep each other company didn't seem such a bad idea. Now, it had become slight of a problem, though. If they were ever to be hunters it was important they'll watch each other's backs but they would also have to be able to survive on their own. This kind of dependency on someone, no matter how close that someone was, wasn't good for them.

"Come on, Sammy. You're a big boy already."

And yes, those puppy dog eyes of his worked even in the dark.

Like some inner voice had told Dean something was up his breathing hitched as he started to wake up from his dream. He rolled over to his side so he was facing us and cracked his sleepy hazed eyes open a little. Just enough to see our shadows probably. Come to think of it, I doubt he was even fully conscious when he muttered: "Fine, Sammy, come here."

The next thing I notice is the little boy snaking out under my arms and climbing to lay next to his brother. He scoots close to Dean's body and snuggles his stuffed teddy between them. I blink my eyes few times in confusion at how well thye fit in the tiny bed for one. Dean's other arm is wrapped loosely around Sam's smaller frame. The younger boy sighs deeply, sounding pleased, and is asleep in minutes.

I take a seat in Sam's bed and just watch them sleeping for a while. My boys. There are so many things I'd want to teach them, to warn them about. Sometimes I'm so concentrated on the hunt I forget they are just kids. They should be out there, playing and worrying about school and girls and proms and pimples. But they are _my_ boys and I can't let them have that with knowing what's really living in the dark. Mary's memory is still too fresh in my mind and I'm going to figure this way of life out even if it kills me and it probably will eventually. But my boys will there to pick up where I left off.

But right now I need to be right here, to watch over them. To guard their sleep and take their temperatures.

**To be continued…**


	2. Aw, Dad, you don't know anything

**This is the second part of the series: "Aw, Dad, you don't know anything". **

***SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN*SPN***

My mind is oddly calm and clear as I carry Dean in my arms to the Impala. Only things registering in my head are that if I drop Dean it will be the end of us and I need to just concentrate on the path in front of me. It's so dark in the forest I can only see few feet ahead of me. I have stumbled on the roots crossing the stomping couple of times but managed to hold my balance.

I hear the rustle of leaves on the ground as I run over them, my rapid breathing and blood pumping through my veins. My eyes feel hyperactive for the almost-not-there light coming from the stars picking up every precious piece of it. My lungs take advantage of every inhalation delivering oxygen all over my body keeping it going. I have been carrying Dean for good 20 minutes now but adrenalin keeps my muscles working and the boy pressed against my chest.

I'm like a machine. And I need every part of me to do its job.

Dean has been quiet the whole time even though he must be in serious pain. He silently just grips the front of my hiking coat and presses his face against its cold surface. Maybe I have heard couple cries of pain along the way but they are muffled by the coat.

_Good boy, Dean, just hang in there._

After what felt like an eternity we race out of the woods and I see the Impala standing where I have parked it just few hours before. Its metallic shine is a sight for my sore eyes. As quickly and gently as I can I lay Dean in the back seat. His eyes are screwed shut as I leave him to lay there and take a seat behind the wheel. Couple swirls of dust rise up as I hit the Impala's gas pedal to the floor and take off.

_15 minutes later at the motel…_

"Dad? What happened to him?!" Sam's round eyes are glued to Dean as I bust through the front door.

I don't have time to even look at him, I just give him orders and concentrate on Dean.

"Close the door and get me some clean towels."

I put Dean on my bed which is nearest to the door. "It's okay, kiddo, you're going to be fine," I mutter to him quietly. When I see Sam hasn't moved a muscle I snap at him perhaps harsher than I should have: "_Now_, Sam!"

As Sam springs to action I start to undress Dean. He's well on his way on going to shock so I need to act fast. I can't afford him not breathing because the nearest hospital is about 30 minutes away. _Maybe I should have gone to the hospital right away. It's pretty sure he's going to need stiches anyways…No, John, you have to focus here!_ My trained eyes examine the scratches and bruises on his body but I can't find the wound causing the bleeding this bad. I'm missing something! Where the -

"Um, Dad?" Sam says hesitantly next to me. He's carrying a pile of towels and our first aid kit.

I glance at him shortly and his face is pale as he points at Dean with his finger. I turn my head to its direction and see he isn't actually pointing at Dean. He's pointing at Dean's right leg which is hanging over the edge of the bed on the opposite side so I haven't noticed it. I frown as I go around the bed and immediately understand the color of Sam's face as I see what's most probably causing the bleeding and shock. Dean's leg is twisted inwards right above his ankle, not enough to break the skin but enough to be seen with clear eyes. It doesn't take a PD degree to say the boy's tibia is broken.

_Great. Let's review this again. One broken leg, check. He's in pain, check. He's about the go unconscious, check. He probably has internal bleeding, not sure. Okay, we'll come back to that later. Now, what do I have to do to keep this under control? _

My eyes wander around the motel room searching for answers finally landing on our medicine duffel bag.

_IV? Yes. _

"Okay, Sam. I need you to prepare me an IV bag. We have to give him fluids and pain killers."

Sam nods and starts to rumble through the duffel bag looking for the supplies. I'm already on my way to collect instruments for cannula. Good thing I'm always so neurotic about them being in order so they are where they are supposed to be when I need to find them.

_Okay, the cannula, tapes, alcohol swabs…what else? Oh yeah, the vein of course. _

Fortunately Dean is easy to cannulate and it takes me just few seconds to find a proper vein to needle. In the next moment Sam hands me the IV bag with tubes and I'm ready to give Dean the pain killers. As I'm measuring the medicine to a syringe Sam stands next to his brother and watches me helplessly. On my way back to Dean I try to smile at him a little.

"Don't worry, he's going to be okay. We just have to fix this, alright?"

"What happened?"

"It was a wendigo, I've never seen so big in my life. It got lost from me for a while and Dean wasn't with me so that must be when it got him off guard."

"What do you mean Dean wasn't with you?" Sam asks accusation clear in his voice. "You promised nothing would – "

"I know what I said. But he wanted to go on his own so we could – "

"I don't care, Dad! I don't care what he might have wanted, he's on your responsibility so it doesn't – "

"Now it's not the time or the place, Sam." I say as coldly but calmly as I can. "That ankle is our number one thing here."

"Dean should been your number one thing back there", I hear him mutter as he walks past me. I'm just about to remind him of what usually happens when he talks back to me but for some reason I can't summon the energy for that. I let the comment slide and pretend I didn't hear him but can't help a little stab in my heart. I know if I hadn't let Dean go wondering in the forest by himself this wouldn't probably have happened but…

_But what? Yeah…_

Dean's face starts to relax a bit as the pain killers kick in. I know the medicine is just to soothe our consciences because it's going to hurt like hell to reposition the bones and I'd have to knock him out all the way to make it 100% painless. Unfortunately that's not an option at the moment. I can feel Sam's eyes on my back as I'm watching Dean lay on the bed. He also knows what's going to happen next.

I crouch down to speak to Dean. His face is pale and sweat has glued his hair to his forehead and he doesn't open his eyes even when I put my hand on his shoulder. The tight line around his mouth and tentative breaths are the only signs that he's still with us.

"Dean?"

"Umf."

"I gave you some pain meds but I can't give them that much. It seems like your leg is broken and –" I close my eyes to empty my mind and open them again. " – well, you know what that means, right?"

Dean just nods sharply. I nod too even though he can't see me. I look at Sam and sign him to come next to Dean. His job is to put some weight on Dean's body as I reposition the leg. Just like we have trained Sam takes hold on Dean. His eyes are closed tight and I can read from his lips he's repeating some kind of mantra: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…

_I'm sorry too, Sam._

I go around the bed and position myself steadily against the end of the bed and the reality of the situation hits me. Seeing Dean's leg in so unnatural position and even thinking about touching it makes my stomach flip. Not to mention how painful it's going to be. I take a few deep breaths to try to push the urge to vomit down. My blood pressure shoots up and my hands are shaking uncontrollably. I can feel I'm slowly losing the control over my body and state of mind.

_I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't…I'm so sorry, Dean._

The sound Dean's bones do when they kind of scratch each other will haunt my memories for the rest of my life. The boy screams his lungs out when I manipulate his leg in the right position and the pain and agony in that voice tears my ears but the worst sound is definitely from the bones. They make this horrible _scratch_ and _snap_.

_Scratch. Snap. Scratch. Snap._

"Dad!" I'm pulled back by Sam's panicked voice.

I blink my eyes few times and take in the scene in front of me. Sam is trying his best to hold his brother down and I soon notice why he's having such troubles. Dean's squirming and trying to get Sam off by punching, clawing and kicking him. He's screaming and crying at the same time and it turns into this primal sharp bellowing the babies usually do when they are very upset. I realize I'd have to step in before Dean will undo all the work.

Gently but firmly I grab Dean's arms and pin them against the mattress and I try to put as much of my weight as I can and dare on Dean's middle. Sam backs away quickly and the last thing I hear from him is the loud bang of the bathroom door when it's being shut forcefully. I soon realize to handle this I need to use brutal strength but also try to get inside Dean's head. I have to get him to calm down so he won't injure himself worse.

"Dean, _Dean_!" I speak loud and clear right to his ear. "Hey, Dean, hey! Listen to my voice, Dean, listen to me."

I repeat this over and over again and slowly but surely the boy's struggle weakers minute by minute. I'm not sure if it's because of my voice or because his body is simply getting tired but I figured the results are more important than the whys. Finally Dean stops resisting me and I loosen my grip. I bet he has finger shaped bruises on his arms but they will blend in with the old ones. Dean's body is now shaking violently from head to toe. I dare to let go of him and reach for the pain medicine syringe on the table. With one hand I manage to inject a dose of morphine into his system.

"It's okay, Dean, it's okay", I murmur as I gently pet his arms sliding my hands up and down. "It's okay…"

_No, it's not._

_A few hours later…_

I'm sitting on a very uncomfortable hotel chair next to my bed where Dean's lying. It has been hard and tiring few hours after I had gotten his bones in order. After that Sam and I had to stabilize the leg somehow which wasn't any easier or less painful than the reposition. Luckily I had invested a vacuum tube for broken bones few months ago and some steel bars. Of course the result wasn't as good and effective as a real plaster cast but this would have to do for now.

I have dozed Dean up as much as I dare not to paralyze his breathing and I'm now overseeing him in case he starts to wake up. I know we can't go on like this for much longer, I'd have to call Bobby to help us out. The wendigo had gotten away so someone else should take care of it but right now my eyes and interest are glued to Dean few inches away.

"You want to take a break?" Sam asks from his bed. "I could watch him and you could get some sleep."

"I'm no tired", I reply shortly, not getting my eyes off of Dean.

"Uh-huh."

"Just go to sleep, we have an early morning tomorrow."

"Bobby coming to pick us up?"

"Yeah. He can take better care of Dean."

"Was he mad when you told him about Dean?"

I grind my teeth. "Naturally, went on and on how I couldn't watch after you. The usual stuff."

Sam clears his throat and I sense him trying to put his words right. "Don't you think he kind of has a point? Every now and then?"

Suddenly I'm at a loss for words. My 13 year-old was asking me if I agreed I wasn't the best guardian for them. And the most worrying part is that I don't know. I don't know if they would be better off without me or should I keep them close in order keep them safe.

_Like you kept Dean safe tonight?_

"And I'm saying this to try to make you feel bad, Dad", Sam continues, a little more sureness in his voice now. "I'm just genuinely asking for your opinion if you think you're able to pull this through, raising us and hunting at the same time?"

"You know when you were little", I speak quietly keeping my eyes on Dean, "I thought the only way to keep you two safe and alive was to teach you to hunt and watch out for each other, to stick together and fight these things. For me this never ending battle against the darkness is purely about your Mother, I won't deny that, but for you I wanted it be about surviving and helping other people."

I pause for a while to linger my gaze over Dean's mangled face, the IV dripping into him and all I can see is months forth of rehabilitation and pain.

"But sometimes, times like tonight, I wonder is it really worth it. You're my kids, my boys, and of course I don't want anything bad to happen to you, you need to understand that, Sam." I now look directly at Sam sitting in his bed. He can't hold my gaze for long and shifts uncomfortably under my stare. "I never wanted this to happen to Dean but it did and after something goes wrong the only thing I'm able to do is to try and fix it."

"That all sounds awfully noble and protective but you didn't answer my question, Dad. Do you think Dean and I will make it under your watchful eyes?"

"I'm not going to lie, there will be some serious bumps in the road, but broken legs can be healed and you will get more strength. We will be fine."

Sam is quiet for a while. He's watching intensively as Dean's chest rises and lowers rhythmically and when he finally speaks there's such oldness, tiredness and sadness in his voice it nearly chokes me: "I'm sorry but I just can't see it. I know hunting isn't easy but I also know you're way too hung up on killing the demon and every piece of evil in between to really put Dean and me before your revenge. If you did you'd give up this life style. And I'm not saying you don't care about us or don't want the best for us. I'm just saying that what _you_ think is best for us might not be right way to go and for that reason I can never fully trust you. After what happened tonight I'd never pick hunting over the wellbeing of my family."

And after that statement Sam turnes his back to me and lays down. I know he wouldn't be sleeping but the conversation is clearly over. Not that I would be willing to continue it anyways. Sam really got me off guard with saying he doesn't trust me to take care of them. I have _always_ done my best to keep them out of harm's way until they were prepared and trained enough. I have _always_ made a point of taking the bullets for them. I mean, couldn't Sam see what I had been through tonight to take care of Dean?

But on the other hand I see his point clear as day. Am I really not better than the monster I hunt?

**To be continued…**


End file.
